About The Book
Title:
The Shadow of Loss
Author:
Josefina Gutierrez
Genre:
YA Realistic Fiction
Evelyn Gonzalez keeps losing people,
which is always hard, but has she lost something much more? Has she lost
her soul? Evelyn has a nervous breakdown and is institutionalized, after
months of sorrow and pain she is thrust back into the world. The world of
teenage angst and Calculus. But can she trust people again?
Especially after hurtful assumptions and judgments made her miss her junior
year of high school. Evelyn is just trying to heal what she lost and
graduate from high school.
Author Bio
Josefina Gutierrez is a Young Adult eBook author and a
forever student. Josefina writes Young Adult
Multicultural, Sci-fi, and Fantasy literature in her free time when she’s not
embarking on adventures with her son and gnomes Fitzgerald and Bartholomew. Josefina’s current projects in the works are a New-Adult
fiction eBook and a Fantasy dystopian eBook, the first in a series, due out in
2015.
Links
Book Buy Links:
BN
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-shadow-of-loss-josefina-gutierrez/1120271640?ean=9781483536736
Book Excerpts
Ever heard the expression it all went down in a pile of
flames? Well shit, I didn’t think life
was going to get all literal about it.
Now I am quietly tucked away between four white walls and a twin bed,
where I can touch opposing walls with my index fingers. I have been stuck with my thoughts in this
box for months. I have been cut off from
the outside world, because I went crazy. My own sister, locked me up, but I don’t
blame her—I really don’t. Olive was
trying to help me when everyone else abandoned me. She writes me letters every week. I guess it is another way to anchor me to the
living. It’s not like I don’t see her on
visiting days, but like she says, “Letters are better for communicating, they
force you to realize what is important.”
“Miss Gonzalez, your sister has arrived. Please gather your personals and follow me,”
the orderly tells me. She was nice, but
firm. I’ve heard the opposite is usually
true in these cases—so I was lucky. She
introduced me to Stigmata.
“Yes ma’am,” I say and walk over to the desk. I was only allowed the basics. I was stripped of all the vital things that
would keep me informed or busy. I grab
my small travel bag and my copy of Stigmata, which is on loan. Stigmata did for me what others could
not. Some might have chosen an entirely
different genre or novel, but it was never a matter of deciding, I knew. Institutionalization was a no brainer.
I hand my personals to her and follow her to the front. I see her waiting for me. She was always the attractive one. She is pacing back and forth near the front
desk. She doesn’t see me yet, but I wave
anyway, hoping she can sense it. Her
face looks swollen, she must have been crying.
She also looks skinnier than our last visit. How is that possible? I saw her a few days ago. Tsk tsk, frozen dinners most likely.
“Uh sorry…am I sitting in your spot?” I ask him. When he turns around I notice it is the guy
that helped me this morning.
“Nah. You’re good,” he says
and winks, “We meet again. I’m Matt,” he
extends his fist.
“It would seem so,” I awkwardly tap his fist.
He then goes on to ramble, apparently he doesn’t need me to say
anything, because he talks like we have known each other since birth. I have to breathe, but I just let out a sigh
instead. “…so you see he is usually
content with a blotch on a piece of paper, as long as you can come up with a
seemingly logical, illogical, explanation for how society has undermined your
very existence,” he says. I’m not even
sure what he’s talking about, so I just nod and say, “Yup.”
“Ya know I like this mysterious slash hippie vibe you have going
on,” he exaggerates by waving his arms up and down my heavy frame, “Like you
aren’t a tree hugger per se because you have those boots, which are pretty
badass for this town. But you also dress
like you just don’t give a fuck and would punch someone in the face if they
looked at you wrong. Am I right? Oh please tell me I’m right,” he grins like
the Cheshire cat.
“I’m not sure what to say to any of the blibber-blabber that came
out of your mouth,” I say and immediately regret it. Shit.
Shit. Shit. I probably offended him, “I’m sorry,” I obsessively
pull on my jacket sleeve. I can feel my
left arm burning.
“Nah. You’re good. More than good my mysterious hippie friend,”
he says and pats my shoulder. “I have
this flyer for an epic party I’m throwing this Saturday. Well every Saturday actually. You will be tripping balls…if you had any…you
should come and soak in my awesomeness.”
“Uh thank you…humbleness isn’t really high on your list huh.”
“I am awesome. It is a
fact. You know—” he begins to say and is
cut off by a loud bang at the front.
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